Dating Life: I Posted This Ad On Craigslist...Annotated

Note: I posted this ad on craigslist last Valentines Day. It was just an experiment. I was more interested in writing the ad itself and not at all interested in meeting anybody. I got something like 20 responses, none of them viable. I took the ad down after I kept receiving responses asking what kind of drugs I was using (none). Here for your reading pleasure is the ad, annotated.

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Un Chien Andalou (n.1) or Warm and Heavy Like Old Friendship

[Once upon a time...] (n.2)

Those ancient and old symbols quiver in the bright sunlight. We don't feel as old as we are but time keeps marching on as soldiers in formation. While the phalanx formation was appropriate for angels (n.3), time has no such poetry. It's all just straight lines and measured beats.

Speaking of poetry, how about if I do a little waxing? Of moonlight and walks on the beach? Of the stars that twinkle like shattered windshield glass on nighttime asphalt (n.4)? On seashore while we walk, ignoring the flaring bonfires of hipsters and hippies in our midst, watching cloud-like clumps of sea foam sliding across dark wet sand (n.5). Sandpipers are just barely visible running over the shore, delicate shadows. I could go on but I think what makes this evening special is the easy silence between us, your arm around my shoulders, warm and heavy like old friendship.

[Eight years later...]

This past week it's all about the films. Independent ones. I've tried cramming as many films into this week and next that I'm about to collapse from the stories and images flying around my subconscious like sugared up screech owls (n.6). Sure, I stole those words from the title cards but I couldn't resist. This post is about time after all. Time together, time marching on, the time of our lives, good times, and the time is now. Time bending and twisting like my brain did while watch nun exploitation films at 1:00 am with bad editing and worse acting (n.7).

I like to do a lot of other stuff too. Writing, obviously, though I write fiction with coherent stories most of the time. I like looking at paintings and sculptures. I like notes and beats, instruments. The usual stuff, though I'd be lying if I didn't disclose that the main reason I indulge myself in such pursuits is to fuel my imagination for more writing. Speaking of more, let's talk about that. More excellent conversation, more sexy moments, more telling you how cool you are (n.8), more fun times, more exploration of the world and each other.

Not less. I'm tired of less. The biggest form of less in my life right now is the job situation, just so you know. Other forms of less that have proved tiring: less kindness, less warmth, less understanding, less lovely connections.

[Around three in the morning...]

We are not battleships passing each other in the night firing our guns at random. When we see each other, we defy the usual norms by actually staying and talking, then asking each other our names, then explaining that we'd like to meet for coffee or a dinner. We like each other and follow through. We listen to each other and want to know more stuff about...us. At least that's the hope. A good one, wouldn't you say? For hope is not the broken down, kicked-in-the-ass bird trying to fly around on one wing that I sometimes imagine it to be. No, hope is the real deal, the enduring idea, and the sweet clenching in my chest. Hope never goes away in spite of my best efforts (n.9).

[Sixteen years ago...]

About me:
Long dark hair, eyes like the night wind
A little on the chubby side (padded)
Beautiful but in an average, non-descript way (n.10)
A solar-like smile
Short

Looking for single/divorced, educated man.

[In the Spring...]

My life is full of too many maybes and what ifs. You know what I mean. These things crowd around me like gnats with tiny bombs. The only what ifs worthy of my attention are the ones related to my stories. Time to walk out into this big world, barefoot and open. Time to take a look around. Time to see what's up. If you've made it this far in this post, I thank you for reading. If you're at all interested, please do write.

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I've written some excellent ads on craiglist over the years but this was the weirdest one. I read a horoscope that stated I needed to keep experimenting and frolicking around in matters of love. Or rather I interpreted it as frolicking. This was one way I could think of doing just that. I have no idea if I'll get any responses but I wanted to share this strange piece of writing with you anyway. Besides, it's fucking Valentine's Day, right?

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Footnotes
(n.1) "Un Chien Andalou" is the most famous surrealist film ever made. It was a French silent film made in 1929 and directed by Luis Bunuel. Here's a blog post I did on it.
(n.2) The comments in brackets follow the title cards in "Un Chien Andalou," hence the post title. A title card was used in silent films to set the time, note dialogue, or provide explanations. Luis used the title cards in this film to mess around with time and force people to shift their expectations of what was happening when.
(n.3) In Milton's "Paradise Lost," there's a war in Heaven and the angels use the Ancient Greek phalanx formation in their battles. If you've seen the movie "300," Gerard Butler goes into a short explanation of how it works.
(n.4) It occurred to me that this phrase "shattered windshield glass on nighttime asphalt" might be a bit too grim to include in a personal ad but I left it in because I really like it.
(n.5) I was walking on Ocean Beach by myself one night and there were these giant clumps of seafoam sliding across the dark wet sand. They looked like cumulus clouds and they were moving very steadily. I felt like a giant walking on the roof of the world.
(n.6) I was in the middle of attending the San Francisco Independent Film Festival (SF IndieFest) when I wrote this post.
(n.7) The name of this film was "Nude Nuns With Big Guns" and I really did watch at 1:00 am.
(n.8) In Miss Turtle's world, one of the biggest compliments I can give a guy is "You are so cool." The only one that's better is when I tell him he's my hero. Heroes in my life are few and far between, starting with my Dad. The guy has to be a knockout to reach that status.
(n.9) This part is painfully honest. I'm generally a cynic when it comes to matters of love but this little confession about how hope never goes away even though I try to beat the crap out of it is so true.
(n.10) I'm always brutally honest when I post dating ads but there's nothing average and non-descript about the way I look. I wrote that down because guys never seem to notice me.